


you're the shit and i'm knee-deep in it

by cosetties



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hook-Up, Like so much, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Player Even, it's actually painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 17:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosetties/pseuds/cosetties
Summary: After Even has already rejected him once, after Isak is aware of Even's reputation for meaningless one-night stands, the last thing Isak should be doing is sleeping with the guy. But it keeps happening, and there's no way Isak is getting out of this with his heart intact.





	you're the shit and i'm knee-deep in it

**Author's Note:**

> so i couldn't get this plot out of my head?? i'm getting like 4 hours of sleep tonight but i just had to write it. i promise i'll update my wip soon, but also!! wow this fic got out of hand. it was supposed to be a really quick oneshot, but alas. i have no self-control. much thanks to [ceecee](http://westiris.tumblr.com/) for reading over this. ilysm.
> 
> title from my backwards walk by frightened rabbit. can you believe i didn't title a fic with lorde lyrics for once? the title of the google doc i shared with ceecee was like "insert lorde lyrics here" but i listened to one of my old angsty les mis playlists and this happened.

Isak’s always been a man of science. Ever since his parents had bought him his first chemistry kit at age three—far younger that he could comprehend anything beyond making pretty colors happen—he’s been fascinated by natural phenomena and processes, how they seem to function together to create this beautiful, complex world. He kicks ass in all his labs, if the sheer number of people begging to copy his pre-labs is any indication. His brain tends to overanalyze and dissect, which is kind of a shitshow for his personal life, but great for his classes. Even at his most cynical, Isak’s never doubted that everything has an explanation, whether it’s been discovered or not.

But there’s no logical explanation for how Even looks this good all the fucking time. It’s practically, like, the opposite of science. Isak’s getting near perfect grades, and he’s shaping up to be a great candidate for most of the med schools he’s interested in, but he still can’t figure out how Even still has this effect on him, after six months of painfully platonic friendship.

Isak’s too busy being bitter to notice that the source of his bitterness is headed towards him. It’s too late when he realizes, and he barely has time to down the rest of his wine before Even coughs behind him.

“Did you like the film?” Even asks, looking all too nervous. In the grand scheme of things, Isak’s opinion doesn’t really matter. His metric for quality cinema is his own plebeian tastes, and Even’s already given him enough shit for being into the Transformers movies.

They’re _fun,_ okay, and sometimes you just gotta watch things blow up. He’d blame it on years of overcompensating for his sexuality with overt displays of masculinity, but honestly, even if he had come out of the womb out and proud, his taste in movies would still be this shitty.

Even’s cheeks are flushed from the wine, and he holds out a full glass to Isak, who takes it gratefully. Isak’s been watching him out of the corner of his eye all night. Even’s eyes are still bright after a conversation with his professor, so it must have gone well. It’s no wonder. Out of all the short films that he’d just seen, Even’s was clearly the standout. Isak had scurried to the bathroom afterwards to wipe away his tears, but he couldn’t fully get rid of the redness in his eyes.

“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to write something with a happy ending for once,” Isak sniffs.

Even’s grin grows wide, and there’s probably an Isak in some parallel universe who isn’t affected by this. But he’s definitely not that Isak. “Aw, did it make you sad?” Even says.

“They were so in love, you fuckhead, why did you have to make Lance fucking move to America when Oliver was finally ready to commit?”

“Tragedy makes for great romance.”

Isak pokes a finger at Even’s chest. “As a future doctor, I’m officially diagnosing you with a lack of heart. Yep. There’s no way an actual heart is pumping blood through your body. Are you sure you haven’t, like, sacrificed a virgin to the gods lately? Dabbled in dark magic?”

Even considers this seriously. “Pretty sure I haven’t murdered anyone lately, but you can never really be sure.”

“If you turn out to be a murderer, I may have to revoke my friendship.”

“I thought the dealbreaker was going to be my dumb pretentious movies. And now you’re lowering the bar? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually liked me.”

Isak waves a hand. “I got used to your dumb movies.”

There’s a glint in Even’s eyes. “Admit it. Romeo + Juliet made you feel things.”

“Sure, sadness and despair. Sometimes, I think you get a kick out of making me sad.”

Even’s gaze softens. “That’s not true. I hate seeing you sad.”

Isak’s far too intoxicated to deal with the flutters in his heart. Every time he thinks he’s done it, conquered his own feelings to get to a place where he can be just friends with Even, the guy will do something to remind him otherwise. At this point, Isak’s not sure whether he’s just really, really stupid or if Even’s really, really great, but either way, Isak’s still left with an unrequited crush and too many emotions for one twenty-year-old boy to realistically handle. For fuck’s sake, he’d only admitted that he loved his best friends a year ago, and it had taken Magnus getting a concussion for it to happen. Isak has about the emotional capacity of a kale salad, or a slice of molding wheat bread.  

“Besides, I’ll have you know that my next project ends _very_ happily,” Even continues smugly.

Isak raises his eyebrows. “I don’t trust you.”

“That’s because you’re a grump who refuses to believe in people.”

“The last time I trusted you, we almost ended up getting arrested just so you could go swimming at three in the morning.”

Even holds his hands up. “In my defense, I had no idea that people would be home.”

“It was literally their house.” They’ve had this argument before—first the very night of the incident, then again and again. It’s the equivalent of bashing himself on the head. Isak has no idea where he got this compulsion to remind himself every chance he gets that he’s ready to do almost anything for Even, but it’s a little inconvenient when he’s well aware that Even doesn’t reciprocate. Next week, it’ll be another wild scheme, another adventure Isak can’t say no to when faced with the full force of Even’s expectant gaze.  

“They could’ve done us the courtesy of leaving. It was pretty rude of them to ruin my artistic vision,” Even says.

Isak shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you put that scene in the movie.”

In the film, Lance and Oliver had ended up making out in the pool—a searing kiss that had all the passion of self-discovery and first love—which was most certainly not how Isak and Even’s night had gone. That particular night, Even had dragged him from a party with the promise of McDonald’s at the end of their trip. Isak would’ve gone with him even if he had offered him tacos from that 24-hour diner that had given Isak uncontrollable gas, but Even doesn’t need to know that.

Their night had instead ended with both of them running away from the cops, Even nearly tripping over his jeans as they’d slipped to his ankles. Even had cursed the shitty timing, but Isak couldn’t help but feel relieved. The idea of seeing Even in any state of undress makes Isak’s heart beat double-time. He doesn’t have to be a future doctor to know that’s unhealthy, to know that Even’s mere presence is wreaking havoc on Isak’s instincts of self-preservation.

Even’s already rejected him once. No sense in getting his heart broken again. He’s over it, really. It’s just a little disconcerting to remember how he’d drunkenly thrown himself at the guy the first time they’d ever met, only for Even to push him away with the gentlest _let’s not._

The soft brush of Even’s hands, the kindness in his voice, didn’t make the rejection hurt any less. The slow process of becoming friends had only made it worse, if anything, though he wouldn’t give up Even’s friendship for the world. Even definitely gets around _,_ and the knowledge that Isak wasn’t even good enough for meaningless sex is a sobering weight in his chest whenever Even’s around.

He can’t fault Even for liking sex, or for being hot and smart and talented enough to get a steady supply of it. Isak likes sex too. Sex is great, sex is dandy, but he just thinks it would be a whole lot greater and dandier if he were having it with Even consistently, maybe for the rest of forever.

But in these moments, when Even’s ignoring the millions of people he could be talking to at this screening in favor of Isak’s uncultured ass, Isak thinks he could be fine with this. He would do anything to keep Even in his life, even if that means locking his feelings deep down, where no one would ever find them. Isak has years of repression as practice. He’ll just stuff all these traitorous butterflies in his stomach with every bitter thought he’s had about his mother and the one time he’d accidentally seen Magnus’ dick.

Suddenly, Even widens his eyes. On instinct, Isak whirls around, but a desperate _no_ from Even has Isak whipping his head back.

“What the hell, dude?” he says.

“Don’t look. I hooked up with that girl behind you last weekend, and I think she still hates me for not calling her back.”

That, of course, means that Isak _has_ to turn around, ignoring the slashing motions Even’s making across his throat. His breath hitches when he catches sight of the girl. He’s a fool for thinking this would get easier over time. As his eyes land on that beautiful girl across the room, with the full awareness that Even had kissed her full lips and tangled his fingers into her curly hair, a familiar disappointment settles in Isak’s chest.  

“Why didn’t you call her back?” Isak asks. “She’s pretty.”

Even runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just looking for something different, I guess.”

“Is this a kink thing? Because I’m sure there are websites for that. As long as it’s safe, sane, and consensual, I won’t judge—“

Even glares at him. “You know what I mean.”

Isak purses his lips. The problem is that he _does_ . Isak’s had no shortage of hookups himself in the past few months, but none of them had lasted more than a few weeks, and none of them had ever risen to boyfriend status. Jon, the physics grad student, had come the closest. But even his animated discussions of quantum theory hadn’t been able to hold Isak’s interest for long. Maybe if they’d met at a different time, maybe if Isak hadn’t so irrevocably handed his heart over to Even. For Isak, _something different_ means the man standing in front of him.

Isak takes another sip of the wine. Constant inebriation is probably the best way to keep himself from sobbing at the idea of Even sleeping with other people, hot people, smart people, the kinds of people who totally have their shit together and can make that herbal tea blend Even likes. He somehow manages not to chug the wine down like he would if the rest of the boys were here, which is a small victory. Isak Valtersen is growing up.

“I still don’t get what you’re looking for. You could’ve, like, fucked your soulmate already, and you’d never know,” Isak says.

Even sighs. “If I’ve already met my soulmate, it’s not someone I’ve hooked up with. Trust me.”

“How would you even know? You hardly ever see them again.”

“There’s a good reason for that.”

It must be the wine, but Isak can’t stop the bitterness that slips out. “Your impossibly high standards?”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Jonas. Just because he and Eva have been dating forever—”

Isak gags. “Fuck, don’t remind me about them. I hung out with them the other day, and I think they managed to disconnect their faces for a total of ten minutes. Which I guess is an improvement.”

Thank God Isak’s grown up since his first year at Nissen. Spending time with Jonas and Eva used to make his insides ache, but now, all he can muster is a vague annoyance when they’re sucking face for too long. On the best days, he can even feel a soft endearment. If it’s one thing his college self has done right, it’s growing out of his crushes on unattainable straight boys. He’s moved on to unattainable pansexual boys, which could be objectively worse. Isak’s had a good couple of months to test out that theory, and the results may be as definitive as they can get. In any case, he’s sure he’ll have plenty of time to collect more data.

Thankfully, Even interrupts that particular depressing train of thought to say, “You’re not any better. What happened to that last guy, the one who kept spilling coffee on his jeans. Joe? Jack?”

“Jon,” Isak corrects. “He was a grad student. Spilling coffee everywhere is basically required for them to get their degree.”

Even wrinkles his nose. “I always thought he was kind of a snob.”

Isak’s irritated all of a sudden. He’s well aware that the guys who are actually interested in him won’t ever measure up to Even. He doesn’t need Even pointing that out too. “He just had a hard time interacting with people.”

“There’s a difference between awkward and pretentious.”

Isak rubs his temples. “Even, you fought with him over his interpretation of Fight Club.”

“It’s not my fault he doesn’t understand films.”

“He’s studying string theory.”

“See? Pretentious,” Even scoffs.  

Isak’s in the middle of deciding whether he should point out that Even’s latest obsession with Iranian movies might be the textbook definition of pretentious—Isak can imagine flipping open a dictionary to find a picture of Even gesticulating wildly about how the cinema helped shape Iranian culture post-Revolution—when the color drains from Even’s face.

“Wha—“ Isak starts to say, but when he turns around, the source of Even’s apprehension becomes obvious.

“Hi, Melanie,” Even says to the redheaded girl who’d somehow snuck up on them. Isak can fully believe that he’d missed this—it seems to be a side effect of having Even within a five-foot radius of him. Even’s usually better at avoiding situations like these, but as he shifts awkwardly on his feet, it’s clear that he doesn’t have a plan. It’s like witnessing a fucking train wreck, and Isak can’t look away.

“Even,” Melanie says icily.

“How’ve you been?” Even asks, and Isak can’t help but be impressed. After his initial nerves, Even seems to have collected himself, enough to keep smiling, at least. Isak has no idea how one person can hold that much charm in their body, how Even is even _allowed._ He’s a walking hazard, just begging for people to fall head over heels in love with him.

“I’ve been good.” Melanie tugs on a perfect curl, and it bounces in a way that would probably be cute if Isak were less gay and less pathetically in love. “I’m on a date, you know.”

Even raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She waves a hand at a well-dressed man standing by the bathroom. It’s obvious that he’s wearing _real_ formal clothing—not the shabby college student version that everyone else has on. “James is here for his brother. He works at that big law firm downtown. He just graduated from law school in America—“

“Are you going to give us the rest of his resume too? Should I add him to my professional network on LinkedIn?” Isak says. The words come as a surprise to him, and, if Even’s subtle widening of the eyes is any indication, they must come as a surprise to Even too. Isak can already hear Noora chastising him for being an ass. There’s nothing he can hold against Melanie, and he has to give her props for being brave enough to approach Even like this. But the fact of the matter is, she’s seen a side of Even that won’t ever be Isak’s. He hates how wildly insecure that makes him feel, hates the jealousy that surges in his chest, but that doesn’t make any of it go away.

Melanie crosses her arms over her chest. “And who are you?”

Even wraps an arm around his waist. It’s a blessing Isak doesn’t burst into flames right then and there. “My date.”

Isak almost chokes on his wine—and is a little disappointed when he doesn’t. Maybe if he died then, the never-ending tirade of _what the fuck_ would stop pounding through his head. “I—“

Isak’s mouth clamps shut when Even pinches his elbow. He gives a jerky nod. “Date. I’m totally on a date. With Even,” he says, hoping that the squeakiness in his voice isn’t evident. He pats Even’s shoulder for emphasis, and just for something to do with his hands. There’s a good chance that he would do something even worse with them if he didn’t keep them occupied, like God forbid, holding Even _back._

Melanie’s eyes immediately narrow into slits. “I didn’t know you were gay.”

Even gives the kind of weary sigh of someone who’s had this conversation one too many times. Isak can’t claim to have been an expert on sexual identity when he’d come out, but he’s gotten enough lectures from Mahdi, the second best pansexual in his life, to sigh right along with Even.

“I’m not gay,” Even says, but he doesn’t get into it beyond that. Isak feels a twinge of smugness at the confusion that still colors Melanie’s face.

That’s it. He’s an asshole. But he doesn’t think Noora would make him apologize to the feminist gods for being a little petty towards an ignorant straight girl. If there’s one thing they can agree on, it’s their distaste for aggressive heterosexuality.

That, and the fact that Eskild needs to stop snooping in everyone’s personal lives, but _that’s_ not something they can realistically do anything about.

James chooses an absolutely fucking splendid time to slide up to all of them. He links his pinky finger with Melanie’s, and Isak narrowly avoids rolling his eyes. What are they—twelve? Never mind the fact that he’s pretty sure that if he linked fingers with Even, it’d be cute as hell.

But that’s never going to happen anyway, so he’s safe.

James offers a hand to Even. “Hi, you’re Even, right? I was just talking to your friend Rahim over there. Your movie was great.”

Even hesitates before shaking James’s hand. Isak figures there’s gotta be a little weirdness about the fact that their fingers have been inside the same woman. “Thanks, man.”

“The lighting? Amazing. And that ending was like a punch to the gut.”

Even clenches his jaw. Normally, Even preens under compliments about his work. He’s usually the opposite of vain—Isak’s seen his strained smile when people are a little too overt about their appreciation for his looks. Even likes his seduction subtle. But praise for his films makes Even light up from inside. It happens often enough for Isak to memorize the soft surprise in his eyes, the delighted curl to his lips. He knows enough about Even’s past to realize how difficult it was for him to get here. Isak made a point to skip his group study session tonight for this very reason. Seeing Even in his element is worth the inevitable late night he’s going to have tomorrow.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Even says carefully.

James turns to Melanie. “Babe, are you ready to leave?”

Melanie blinks her long lashes at him, presses her breasts against his chest. “Definitely. Let’s go back to your place.” She shoots Even a glare so fleeting that Isak almost misses it, but she’s not that subtle, nor does she really want to be.

Even must catch it too, because he leans in to peck Isak on the cheek. He deliberately lingers a second longer than necessary, and Isak already knows he’ll be feeling this all the way down to his toes for days. It leaves his head swimming, his hands jittery, but when he manages to look back at Even, there’s no sign that he’s has done anything out of the ordinary. That infuriatingly casual smile has Isak clenching his hands into fists. Isak wonders if his spontaneous death would even phase Even.

He hopes it does—then Even would realize that he’d been in love with Isak all along, and Even’s true love’s kiss would revive Isak, and they’d live happily ever after.

Not in this universe. In this universe, Isak’s not even sure that happy ever afters exist.

Isak manages to keep enough of his wits together to hear Even say, “We’re headed out too. Have a good night, you two,” with a sincere smile at Melanie that Isak knows will bother her more than anything else. Even tugs him towards the wine before Isak can fully collect himself, and as soon as they leave Melanie and James’s sight, Even begins to chuckle.

“That guy totally looked like had a stick up his ass. Or, maybe not, maybe that’s exactly what he needs,” Even says, shaking his head. When Isak continues to gape, Even waves his hand over Isak’s face. His brows furrow in concern. “Isak, are you okay?”

Isak blinks hard, snapping back to attention. “I’m fine. Totally. Never been better.”

He’s such a shitty liar. It’s a miracle that Even hasn’t caught on already. Sometimes, Isak feels like he’s walking around with a blinking sign around his heart that says _property of Even Bech N_ _æ_ _sheim._ That Even is somehow blind to this probably says more about him than about Isak, but Isak’s never been more grateful for Even’s selective blindness to the prospect of someone actually caring about him beyond a good fuck.

“Thanks for playing along back there. I know it was kind of a shitty move, but it’s my night, you know? I made it clear that I’m not interested in dating anyone,” Even says.

In spite of himself, Isak feels himself tensing. He knows this. He’s seen evidence of it over and over, has heard Even say as much in the time they’ve been friends. After his five-year-relationship with Sonja ended, he wasn’t ready to start something new, not when there’s a possibility of that relationship turning out just as toxic as what he’d had with Sonja. He’d been clear that he would never let someone put him through that again.

A part of Isak respects this, but most of him just wants to punch a fucking wall, for letting himself nurture a shred of hope, just because he’s _friends_ with the guy. If anything, the matter of their friendship makes Isak even more of a traitor for being in love with him. Even never asked for this.

So he’s not going to let Even feel bad about his own decisions. Even should get to have this, without Isak shoving his feelings onto him.

“Usually, you have better taste in hookups,” Isak says.

“Well, we didn’t really talk before I decided to sleep with her,” Even points out. Isak can already imagine how it would’ve gone down, with Even doing that failed winking thing that’s a little pathetic but also a lot adorable, and whispering into her ear with his voice pitched even lower than normal. Isak’s stomach curdles. Best not let his thoughts go down that route.

Even gives a deep sigh, and takes another sip of his wine. He looks like he’s wishing for something stronger. Isak can sympathize as he nurses his own wine. He’s never been much of a wine drinker for this exact reason. What’s the point of being a lightweight if he’s drinking something that’s actually going to leave most of his judgment intact? “Do you think I’m a bad person? Sometimes, I think I am.”

“Of course not,” Isak says emphatically. “Not _you.”_

“What does that mean?”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me say it. You’re the best person I know. You help old ladies cross the street. You volunteer at the local homeless shelter. Let’s not forget about that time when you literally rescued a kitten from a tree. Dude, who the hell are you?”

“I didn’t keep the kitten, though. I should have. What if she’s stuck in that shelter forever?”

“Your building doesn’t let you own pets, dumbass,” Isak says, but his voice is fond.

“No one would have noticed.”

“You can barely take care of your laundry, much less another living thing.”

“But animal shelters are so depressing, and I just left her there—“

Isak rubs his temples. “I can’t believe we’re debating the merits if you keeping an illegal cat right now. See, this is exactly what I mean. You’re a far better person than most people I know, and I spend a lot of time with actual doctors who save actual lives, so.”

Even’s mouth quirks upwards. “Even if I sleep around?”

“Do with your dick what you wanna do with your dick. It’s 2017. You’re not, like, Chris Schistad. Last I heard, he’s dating a high schooler.” Isak’s voice drops. “I think women his age make him feel insecure.”

Even whistles. “Chris Schistad is a pretty low bar.”

“You know what I mean. Besides, it’s not like you lead anyone on.” Isak should know. After the night they’d met, Even had made it clear that nothing would happen between them. He’s been the perfect picture of supportive friend ever since, careful not to let his touch linger too long, to say anything that Isak could misinterpret as interest. It had been easy to ignore that night, to pretend that he’d been too drunk out of his mind to remember any of it. As long as it never comes up again, Isak is golden.

But sometimes, when they’re both drunk and standing a little too close, Isak is overcome with the urge to ask Even what made him so undesirable _._ He knows he’s not exactly _bad-looking—_ other guys had told him as much, so it must’ve been something he can’t see, something ugly that he’d rather ignore.

He keeps that urge under wraps, though. He’s not sure he’d like the answer to that question.

Even’s giving him a weird look, and his eyes are considering. “Sometimes, I just—“

Isak looks up from his wine glass. “What?”

“Never mind.” Even smiles brilliantly then, wiping away any shred of weirdness. “Let’s just get drunk and enjoy tonight, yeah?”

Isak clinks his glass against Even’s. “Bet I can drink more than you.”

Even chuckles. “You and your amazing alcohol tolerance?”

Isak maintains eye contact as he says, “Watch me,” and downs his entire glass in one go.

“This is such a bad idea,” Even says, but he dutifully follows suit.

The truth is, this entire thing is a bad fucking idea. Staying friends with Even, following him around like a lost puppy when Even clearly doesn’t return his feelings. Isak’s just setting himself up for disappointment. One of these days, all of this is going to backfire, and Isak will only have a broken friendship and a broken heart to show for it. Even’s not the kind of person to deliberately ignore him if he were to find out about Isak’s crush, but Isak wouldn’t force Even to deal with the awkwardness of always having Isak around. He’s not that much of an asshole, at least.

But when Even hands him another wine glass and raises his eyebrow in a challenge, Isak can’t bring himself to care.

* * *

God, he’s so fucking drunk.

The last time he’d been this drunk had been at William’s birthday blowout the previous month. They’d only gone to prove a point, to show him that Noora’s thriving without him. Isak had made it out of William’s apartment with a bottle of gin that he’s pretty sure cost more than six months of rent at his and Jonas’s place, and he hadn’t regretted it one bit when he’d sobered up. William can deal with being liberated of some of his money. Maybe it would make him less of an entitled ass. It’s a long shot, but hey, Even’s always talking about giving people the benefit of the doubt or whatever.

Speaking of Even, what a guy. What an absolutely amazing, wonderful guy. He’s amazing and wonderful enough to keep running his fingers through Isak’s hair in that soothing way he likes, even when Isak burps into his shoulder. They’d somehow migrated from the screening to the cold bench outside. The alcohol keeps him warm, though—that, and the weight of Even’s arm around his waist, holding him close. He’s almost drunk enough to pretend that this is real.

“Should we go back inside?” Isak slurs. “People are probably looking for you.”

Even yawns, shifting Isak’s head where it lies on his chest. “Screw that. They can deal without me for one night.”

“Aren’t they supposed to give awards soon?” Isak makes a move to pull his phone out of his pocket, but his hand falls at his side. It’s better this way. Time spent on his phone is time spent not snuggling Even, which he proceeds to do instead. Even tucks him against his side, and yep, that was definitely the better decision.

“What makes you sure I’m going to win something?” Even says, amused. He hardly drinks this much anymore—his meds and his bipolar make it a bad idea. Isak hasn’t seen him this drunk in months, but he thinks he likes this. Even’s less guarded, freer with his words, freer with _Isak._ An anticipatory tug of regret creeps up on him, but he just takes another swig from the wine bottle he’d managed to liberate from the bar. Not tonight. He’s forcing his brain to settle down for one night.

“Because you’re good,” Isak says simply.

“You’re biased.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “That’s literally all everyone’s said to me all night. Like, hey, you’re with Even, right, he’s so amazingly talented, he’s going to be a household name one day. It was honestly a little annoying. Everyone seemed to think I was your date.” When Even doesn’t reply, Isak coughs awkwardly. “What a wild idea, right?”

“We did fake it earlier.”

“You’d be a terrible date anyway.”

Even gasps. “That’s an attack on my honor. I’ll have you know I’m a great date.”

“Is that before or after you make your dates risk alcohol poisoning?”

Even clutches a hand to his heart. “You challenged _me.”_

Isak takes another swig from the bottle. “So?”

Even points an accusatory finger at him, but he’s having a hard time containing his laughter. “You’re so full of shit—whose idea was it to steal an entire bottle of wine after already drinking three glasses?”

“Who helped me distract the bartender?”

“You did that _thing_ where you started pouting, and you just looked so sad—“

“Even Bech Næsheim,” Isak says very seriously. He manages to lift himself off Even’s chest so that he’s sitting upright. Even’s still struggling not to laugh, though, the asshole _._ “This is a test for your future. When you’re a famous director, you’re gonna deal with all these diva actors, right? They’re going to whine, and they’re gonna pout, and what are you gonna do?”

Even opens his mouth to speak, but Isak interrupts his thought. “You’re going to learn to say _no._ See, I’m doing you a favor. The sooner you learn to stop being so nice, the better off you’ll be. Next time I ask you to aid me in theft, what are you going to say?”

“No?”

“That’s right.”

“Even if you threaten to steal all my hair gel?”

“Dude, you know I’m too lazy for that anyway. You have hair gel _everywhere._ I’m pretty sure I found some in your dishwasher the other day.”

“I always have to be prepared,” Even explains. “Beauty never rests.”

Isak snorts. “You don’t need it. Your hair looks good, just like this.” Isak reaches over to run his hands through the messy bangs covering Even’s forehead. He’d gotten home late from his shift at KB that day, and hadn’t had enough time to create his usual look. Isak likes Even this way better, anyway. He looks softer, more vulnerable, more like the boy Isak’s gotten to know rather than the persona he puts on for his professors and his classmates.

He doesn’t realize that this isn’t something that they _do_ until Even’s breath stutters, and then it’s too late. As Isak jerks his hand back, reality seems to crash around him. He’s practically crawled into Even’s lap as they’d been talking, and the process of climbing off is all too complicated for Isak’s drunk brain to deal with. Fucking _hormones,_ fucking _feelings,_ fucking _Even,_ who has the audacity to fucking exist.

His face is still red when Even places a warm hand on his hip, holding him in place. “We can cuddle. I don’t mind. You’re so grumpy all the time that I think all you need is a really big hug.”

Isak chuckles mirthlessly. “I need a lot more than a big hug, buddy.”

In retrospect, Isak should’ve seen it coming. But he still squeals as Even wraps his long arms around him, drawing him to his chest. “Don’t underestimate the power of my hugs.”

“You’re so weird,” Isak says, but his face is still smushed into Even’s shirt.

“You’re weird,” Even says. His chest rumbles under Isak’s cheek, and that’s it. This is too much. Isak is quite literally going to die. The healthiest decision for everyone involved would be for Isak to get the fuck away, but Even makes that difficult when he tightens the hug.

“Dude, let me off,” he says.

“No, not until you smile.”

Isak forces a grin. “I’m smiling,” he says through gritted teeth.

Even brushes Isak’s bottom lip with his thumb. “A real smile.”

Isak scoffs. “That’s impossible. That would mean your bullshit actually got to me.”

Even taps Isak’s nose. “You may as well admit it. You love me.”

Isak’s heart thunders in his chest. Even doesn’t mean anything by it—there’s no way he could possibly know _,_ and he’s too drunk to really understand what’s going on. But Isak’s hands are shaking anyway, and it’s suddenly burning hot in the confines of Even’s arms. He wants to leave. He wants to stay here forever. Being with Even has always been like walking a fine line between pure bliss and pure torture, and drunk Isak can’t distinguish between the two. Most of all, he wants the boy in front of him to love him back, and fuck it if that’s naïve or childish. Even makes him feel everything he did at seventeen, all the euphoria and recklessness of being newly out, everything that he thought had bled out of him as he’d grown up.

Isak doesn’t know what’s spurring this sudden bout of bravery when he says, “You kissed me earlier.”

It takes Even a moment to reply. “I did.”

Isak finally looks up. It feels wrong to avoid Even’s eyes now, when there’s a monumental shift between them. Or maybe that’s just on Isak’s end. Maybe it doesn’t matter either way.

“I wanted you to keep kissing me,” Isak admits.

Even’s hand grips the back of his shirt. “Isak,” he says, his voice strangled. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’ll want to.”

Isak’s breath catches in his throat. “What’s so bad about that?”

“You don’t want this.”

Isak brings his lips close to Even’s, so that they’re hovering only inches away. Even’s face fills his field of vision, but Isak swears he can see whole constellations there, whole universes waiting to be found. “It doesn’t have to change anything. I know you’re not looking for a relationship. I just want you.” Isak grinds down to emphasize his point. He can already feel Even getting hard in his dress pants, and it sends a rush of adrenaline through him. The next time he grinds down, Even’s hands at his hips keeps his ass pressed against Even’s dick.

“Baby,” Even says breathlessly, and Isak moans at how broken he sounds already.

As soon as they get their clothes off, Isak’s going to last for all of five seconds, but those are going to be the best five seconds of his life, goddammit.

Isak strokes Even’s cheekbone. “This doesn’t have to mean anything. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.” Thank God he’d decided on his nice skinny jeans that night. It’s giving his boner some semblance of control, but it’s a lost cause. There’s no hiding how turned on he is. Isak may not be as sophisticated as Even’s usual hookups, but he thinks his desperation does the trick anyway, when Even’s eyes darken.

Even cups Isak’s chin in his hand. “You’re so beautiful.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “That’s great and all, but I just kinda want you to make out with me now—“

Even rolls his eyes right back. “You’re so _needy,”_ he says, but he complies, crashing his lips against Isak’s.

The next few minutes are pure bliss as Even licks into his mouth, sucks on his tongue like it’s the only thing he needs to survive. He pulls Isak’s dress shirt out of his jeans, and his clever flingers flit over the skin above the waistband. Isak groans into Even’s mouth. Even’s dick is a hot weight against the curve of Isak’s ass, and Isak needs to remove the layers between them, stat. “Can we go back to my place?” he pants.

Even’s eyes are still a little dazed. “What?”

Isak sighs. “Unless you want me begging you to fuck me in public, we should probably go somewhere with a door that locks.”

“That—that would probably be good, yeah.”

There’s a part of Isak that’s sober enough to know how bad of an idea this is. No way in hell can Isak escape casual sex with Even unscathed. If looking at Even hurts now, when he can’t have him, it’ll magnify a thousand times after Isak’s had him, but not in the way he wants. He’s good enough for sex, and not much more.

But now he’s drunk and horny, and he’s too far gone to be careful.

Getting each other out of their clothes is a clumsy process, and Isak isn’t proud to say that he trips over his own feet more than once. It’s worth it when Isak finally sits himself in Even’s lap. When their faces draw close, Even reverently brushes a sweaty curl from Isak’s forehead. The touch is too tender for the way Isak’s currently bouncing on Even’s dick, searching for his prostate, and it makes Isak’s heart skip a beat.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Even whispers.

Isak can’t find it in himself to respond. It’ll get too sentimental, too real for Even’s liking, and he can’t have Even running away now, when Isak desperately needs Even’s dick to get off. He presses their lips together and tangles his fingers in Even’s hair instead. “Believe it,” he says breathlessly.

Later, after they’ve cleaned themselves off, Isak lets himself snuggle against Even’s warm chest. Even drapes an arm across his waist. If he closes his eyes, it’s easy to believe it. “I can’t believe I got your giant dick inside of me,” Isak mumbles into his pillow.

Even smiles against his shoulder. “You definitely deserve an award.”

“The orgasm will suffice.” Isak yawns. “Will you be here in the morning?”

Even hesitates. “Do you want me to be here?”

“I’m not going to kick you out of my apartment, God. We’re bros.”

“I’ll make you my famous eggs in the morning.”

“Orgasms and eggs in return for dealing with your dick. Seems fair.”

“You didn’t seem to be complaining thirty minutes ago.”

“That was horny Isak. This is regular Isak, whose ass is going to be sore as fuck in the morning, thanks to you.”

Even chuckles. “Goodnight, Isak.”

“Goodnight, Even.”

* * *

Isak’s so groggy the next morning that he only manages to lift his head five inches above his pillow before he falls back against it with a groan. “Holy fuck,” he grumbles. “Go the hell away,” he tells his hangover, which isn’t the most productive or the most logical thing he could be doing right now, but it’s a little better than languishing in self-pity.

Last night comes back to him all at once, hitting him like a train. He whirls his head around to the other side of the bed, only to come up empty. His chest tightens. The memory of his desperation the night before makes him cringe. He hadn’t really expected Even to stay, but it still hurts like a bitch.

When he stretches out on the bed, he discovers that his muscles are pleasantly sore. He’s usually all about this—there’s nothing like good sex to reinvigorate him. But now, it just reminds him of Even, who hadn’t even bothered to wish him good morning. He wonders if this is how all of Even’s conquests feel, dirty and used, but all too willing to come back for more.

It takes him a few minutes to recognize the sound of Gabrielle drifting from the kitchen. His eyes pop open. He only knows two people who can stomach Gabrielle at all hours of the day, and Eskild is in Paris with his new boyfriend right now, which must mean—

“Even? You’re still here?” Isak says, poking his head through the kitchen doorway. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, but when he lifts his hands, Even’s still standing there, somehow. He’s wearing a pair of Isak’s sweats, which are a little short on him. Isak’s seen the man naked—the sight of his ankles shouldn’t have this much of an effect on him. This isn’t Pride and Prejudice, for God’s sake, and Isak is neither hot nor mysterious (but definitely socially awkward) enough to be Mr. Darcy. But none of what he feels for Even has ever made sense, so what the hell.

“Good morning,” Even says. He turns back to the eggs he’s frying. “You didn’t have any sour cream, so you’re going to have to deal with subpar eggs, but I tried my best anyway.”

When Isak doesn’t respond, Even looks at him over his shoulder. “You’re just standing there,” he says, which is _obvious_ , because Isak can’t move when his entire world is spinning too fast for him to handle, but the perplexed raise of Even’s eyebrows has Isak blushing anyway.

“You’re in my kitchen. Making me breakfast,” he says slowly.

“Wow, amazing. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me that the sky is blue or that Jay-Z cheated on Beyonce. Any other enlightening observations?” Even says.

“Why?”

Even’s gaze softens. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

There’s a difference between asking him and believing that he’d actually _do_ it, but Even has always managed to surprise him. If Even treats all of his one-night stands like this, it’s a wonder how they let him leave at all.

But Isak has to.

“This is very nice of you,” Isak forces himself to say. “But I meant what I said yesterday. Nothing has to change between us.”

Even sighs. “Isak, I think we should talk.”

Isak’s too hungover to handle Even’s rejection right now. Maybe give it another day. If he’s being realistic, he’s not getting over this any time in the foreseeable future, but he’s just asking for a one-day reprieve. He’ll hear Even out tomorrow. As long as Even can stay his friend after this, even if they have to set clear boundaries to keep Isak in check, even if they have to create a safeword for when Isak’s hormones and also his heart get the best of him, Isak thinks he’ll be okay. He’s never needed anything more than Even, whether that’s as a friend or as a lover or as the nameless hot guy he’d pined after at their mutual friends’ parties for months before Jonas had finally introduced them.  

Isak glances down at his wrist. He doesn’t even own a watch—he probably should’ve thought this through better, honestly. “Whoops, look at the time. I promised Magnus I’d help him paint his kitchen.”

“You’re literally choosing to watch paint dry over eating breakfast with me?”

“I’m a really good friend.”

“If you’re trying to avoid me, I should leave _your_ apartment.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Isak says, but it’s about as convincing as Donald Trump’s grasp of the facts of climate change. “Besides, you’ve been over here enough. Just let yourself out.”

Even straightens his back. “Isak—“

“I’m sure those are great eggs, and now you get to eat all of them. Isn’t that great?” He waves to Even as he slips out the door. “Thanks for the sex, bye!”

He slumps against the door as it slams shut behind him. _Thanks for the sex, bye?_ What the fuck was he thinking? If he thought drunk Isak was bad, hungover Isak is apparently even less smooth, if that were humanly possible.

But drunk Isak had gotten him into this mess in the first place, so maybe he’s the actual worst after all. Drunk Isak is a shithead. Isak would disown that guy if he could.  

Isak groans, burying his face in his hands. He can’t purge the memory of Even’s moans as he came, the ghost of his hand around Isak’s dick. The more time he spends sober, the more pieces of last night start to fit together. They paint a pretty picture, and he hates his dick a little for the way it stirs weakly in his jeans.

He draws in a deep breath. Best get that out of his head. This isn’t happening again.

* * *

It happens again.

There’s the time at Vilde and her girlfriend’s wine night when Even blows him on a washing machine in the laundry room downstairs. Then at Isak’s research symposium, when Even steals him away to finger him in the bathroom. Then in Even’s swanky new car, because they’d been too high and too horny to make it back to either of their bedrooms. Then there’s the time when they somehow stumble into Even’s bedroom against all odds, and Isak gets to test out exactly how great Even’s new memory foam mattress is.

It’s the best sex he’s ever had. Even seems to anticipate everything Isak needs, everything that has him moaning and pulling at Even’s ridiculous hair. Somehow, Even seems to want him with the same heady desperation, if the way he breathes out Isak’s name, like it’s a discovery, like it’s the only word he wants to say for the rest of his life, is any indication. Isak’s had good sex before, but none of it had ever come with the unfortunate side effect of showing him the exact location of the hole in his chest, how easy it would be to pretend that Even fits.

Because it _is—_ unfortunate, that is. Isak always leaves, he has to, never mind the urge to drink in the mere fact of Even’s post-sex bliss. Isak may pour coffee into his Red Bull and refuse sleeping pills when he needs them the most, but he’s not actually that self-destructive, not when it comes to matters of the heart.  

And Even—well, Even is the worst kind of destruction, the kind with the power to make Isak feel like he could have the world, only to snatch it away.

The second time, after Even pulls away from him with come still dripping from the corner of his mouth, Isak tells him, “I don’t want to talk.”

Even’s grin immediately disappears, and he snatches his hands back from where he’d been holding Isak’s thighs apart. It suddenly occurs to Isak that his ass is naked on a washing machine that hasn’t been dusted in years. But he has too much pride to hop off now, that would ruin the whole point of totally cool, totally chill Isak. “You’re talking now, aren’t you?” Even says.

Isak rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. I really want us to stay friends.”

After a moment, Even says, “I do too.”

“Then you agree?”

“I just want to make things clear between us—“

Isak shakes his head. “It’s fine, I get it. It doesn’t have to be complicated, okay? We’re both drunk as fuck right now—we may never fuck again.”

Even just raises his eyebrows at him, because _yeah,_ Isak hears the lie as soon as the words come out of his mouth. They may both have drunk too much wine tonight, but this is the kind of sex neither of them will forget. This is the kind of sex Isak would never say no to, if it came with any other man. It’s the kind of sex he _should_ say no too, when Even has so much power over him. And it’s the kind of sex he can’t resist.

He’s never been so lost. His chest feels like it’s caving in as he finally pulls his jeans back on. Even can’t even look him in the eye. Can he sense Isak’s crush now that they’ve had this—this parody of what Isak really wants? He feels like an open book.  

But Even doesn’t comment when Isak says, “I should go.”

Isak only gets a small nod for his trouble, and he leaves with a heavy weight on his shoulders.

The other times, Isak doesn’t stay long enough to get any words in. They may have agreed that nothing had to change, but Isak can’t help but feel like something _has._ Every casual touch is a stark reminder of Even writhing under his fingers, every easy smile makes him recall that smile in an entirely different context. It’s driving Isak absolutely nuts, but he can’t stay away.

Apparently, they’re not the only two people who can feel the tension, because Jonas corners him the first chance he gets.

“You’re sleeping with Even,” he says, as Isak is picking out a screwdriver from Mutta’s toolbox.

Ever since their friend groups merged, they made it a point to hang out at least once a week—all fifteen of them, even if they can’t all show up. Isak’s tried to beg out of it enough times, but Jonas has apparently included memorizing Isak’s schedule in his best friend duties. He always ends up having a decent time, even if there’s no way for fifteen young adults to do anything together in this city without losing people or losing some of their dignity. The fact that they’re usually all drunk helps. They’ve already been banned from that arcade near Noora’s place for improper use of go-karts, which Isak has no hand in, okay, he’s too scared to drive _anything._ Today, though, seems like a thinly veiled ploy to coopt their labor for Jonas and Eva’s new apartment.

“No, I’m not,” Isak says. But when Jonas remains silent, Isak sighs through gritted teeth. “Okay, fine, I am, but what does it matter?”

“It’s a bad idea,” Jonas says. Luckily, the rest of them are in the living room whining over IKEA instructions, and Isak’s never been more grateful for their collective inability to be real adults.

“Is it because he sleeps around? Because trust me, I am well aware.”

“I know that. I’m just afraid that you’ll be tempted to forget.”

Isak snorts. “His dick isn’t _that_ big.”

“That’s not why. I’m talking about your feelings for him.”

Isak freezes. Jonas knows? Does everyone know? Does _Even_ know?

He forces himself to laugh. “What are you talking about? We’re just friends.”

“Dude, you’re a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them.”

Isak swallows hard. “How did you find out?”

“You’re my best friend, man. I’ve seen you with a lot of guys, but none of them make you smile the way Even does.”

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

“Not any more than the rest of us. You can’t control who you love.” It’s a nice sentiment, but coming from Jonas, who’s been dating Eva since high school, it feels empty.

Isak smiles weakly. “It’s fine, I’ll get over it.”

“He’s an idiot anyway, if he doesn’t realize what he has.”

“No, he’s not. He’s perfectly entitled to his own feelings.”

Jonas nudges Isak’s shoulder with his own. “You’re still a catch, dude.”

Isak flutters his eyelashes. “Enough of a catch for you to leave Eva for me?”

“Okay, that’s not fair—“

Even chooses that exact moment to burst into laughter. When Jonas and Isak hurry into the living room, they find Even and Elias snorting over a chair with the legs screwed on upside down.  

“I don’t know why this is so funny,” Elias laughs, clutching his stomach. “It just looks so fucking stupid.” He nudges the chair, which falls over with a bang. “Dude, how did you not notice?”

“I swear to God these instructions are wrong,” Even chokes out between bursts of laughter. Tears are leaking out of his eyes as he pushes the chair back in the opposite direction. It seesaws pathetically. “Whoops.”

Jonas shakes his head in fondness. “I think you two need a break.”

Isak takes the screwdriver from Even. “I can’t believe you put my entire desk together, but you can’t do one kitchen chair.”

“It hates me,” Even pouts.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Can you read out the instructions to me?” Isak starts unscrewing.

“Think you can do better than me?”

“I don’t think there’s a way to do worse.”

Even pokes at the chair again, then smiles at Isak.  “I guess that’s true.”

As Even starts reading the manual aloud, Isak is hit with a pang of longing. It’s painfully domestic, and he would give up all those amazing orgasms just to have this, for real. They haven’t been able to fall into this easy banter since they started sleeping together, and Isak misses it so much he could scream.

Isak purses his lips. _Started sleeping together_ sounds so deliberate, like he’s making a conscious decision when he ends up with his dick down Even’s throat or thrusting into him. But he’d never made a choice to fall in love with someone who didn’t love in back either, so that’s just the way they’ll always be.

When he finishes fixing the chair, he proudly shows it off to Even. “See? That wasn’t hard at all.”

Even still looks skeptical. “Just because your big science brain can sort it out doesn’t mean the rest of us can.”

“Dude, this didn’t take an ounce of my big science brainpower, but tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.” As soon as Isak realizes that he’s grinning soppily at Even again, his smile disappears. Even’s chuckle dies in his throat too. Isak busies himself with setting the chair upright, then laying out the parts of the next one they have to assemble. It’s better this way. He can’t hide his feelings when they’re hanging out sober. Their friendship has always been tinged with his hopeless pining, but now that they’ve fucked, it’s not long before Even puts two and two together.

Isak watches Even out of the corner of his eye. With his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, Even bangs a leg chair and seat together to see where they fit, and actually pouts when the chair doesn’t magically build itself. Isak’s heart swells. God, this boy is everything. Isak used to think he would burst if Even ever returned his feelings, after he lets Even fill him to the brim. He thinks now that there’s space for Even where his broken bits used to be. He thinks he’s capable of letting him in.

But that doesn’t matter at all.

After he finds Jonas again, Isak makes some bullshit excuse about heading home to finish up a Genetics assignment. Even’s disappointed gaze is heavy on his back as he heads out the door, but Isak ignores him. He can’t possibly survive losing Even, and this is the way he keeps him.  

* * *

The weekend comes before Isak knows it. For someone who hates both people and losing his self-control, Isak sure does end up at a lot of parties. It’s in a coop, hosted by one of Jonas’s activist friends, Adam. Isak’s already been stopped three times by guys wanting to discuss the appropriation of Latinx art, all because he’d made the quick decision to grab the Frida Kahlo shirt Jonas had left at his place, instead of braving his own ever-growing laundry pile. He thinks this is their way of flirting, but he can’t really be sure. Usually, the ass-grabbing and compliments happen in a much less roundabout way, and he prefers it like that. It’s easier, cleaner. He likes to know exactly what he’s getting into when it comes to sex, but that hasn’t been particularly evident lately.  

Fuck, now he’s sad about Even again. He’s not even at this party—Jonas had mentioned it to him last week, but Even claimed he needed a weekend alone. He’d looked at Isak over the top of Jonas’s head then, and a part of Isak had been tempted to ask if he needed company in his alone time. But he can’t fuck Even when they’re sober—that’s the equivalent of setting himself on fire or throwing himself into a pit of every girl he’d ever used as a beard.

Isak can’t even identify all the drugs being passed around as he makes his way to the kitchen, but he’s sticking to beer. It had taken him fifteen minutes earlier to find the bottle of Ringnes in the back of the cabinet. The coop’s entire beer collection seems to consist of craft beers from Oslo microbreweries, and Isak likes this alcohol predictable, thanks. He gets fucked up enough off the slightest amount.

Jonas is with Eva, and Mahdi and Magnus are off looking to score, which leaves Isak alone to keep himself drunk. The party is packed with so many people he’d be surprised if there’s anything left. Adam’s been eyeing him with hunger all night, and Isak figures he could flirt with him for access to his private stash. But sleeping with someone else, even talking to them with intent, feels like betraying Even.  

Even obviously doesn’t feel the same way though, because as soon as Isak enters the kitchen, he’s confronted by the sight of Even chatting up some guy. Even’s got a good couple of inches on him, but the guy’s cute. He’s got wavy brown hair and blue eyes, and his jeans emphasize how nice his ass is. He places a hand on Even’s elbow as Even leans closer, whispers in his ear in that specific way Isak’s gotten acquainted with over the past few weeks.

Even’s not his. Right. Nice to know.

They’ve never talked about being exclusive. Hell, Isak’s not sure that there’s anything to be exclusive _to._ But being confronted with the knowledge that Even is still sleeping with other people, when Even’s the only guy on his mind, hurts more than it should.

His head starts to swim. He needs to get out of here, now, before he does something embarrassing, like actually talk to Even about his feelings. But he accidentally knocks over an empty beer bottle as he backs out of the kitchen. It falls on the tile with a clang, and Even’s head immediately shoots up.

Even beams at him. “I’ve been looking for you,” he says, and Isak’s breath goes shallow. There’s nothing that indicates that he’s aware of any wrongdoing on his part, and it grates on Isak’s nerves, for some irrational reason. Even can’t actually expect to sleep with Isak without making him fall in love with Even even more.

But that’s not Even’s fault. That’s all on Isak.

“I was just about to leave,” Isak says, lowering his head.

“But it’s not even midnight.” Even steps away from the guy, lets his hand fall. The guy frowns, and Isak can’t resist feeling smug. It’s fleeting, though, and doesn’t do much to make him feel better.

“Eskild wanted to take me out for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Knowing you two, breakfast is happening at noon. Do you really need to go to bed now?”

A burst of irritation surges through him. “I’m tired, and I’m drunk, and I’ve had a really shitty week.  So I’d like to just go home and sleep now, if that’s okay with you? Since you’re apparently the boss of me?”

Isak knows how petulant he sounds. It’s worth it when a hint of hurt flashes across Even’s face.

“Let me walk you home, at least.”

“I survived a good twenty years without you. I think I can walk myself home.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

Isak smiles bitterly. “Don’t you know by now that I’m kind of a dick? Go back to your night, Even. I don’t need you.” Isak nods to Even’s hookup, who’s looking between them, stunned. “You two have fun.”

If his mind lingers too long on the image of them having _fun,_ way more fun than Isak and Even have had, then that’s just the alcohol messing with him.

He only makes it to the bench outside before Even grabs his elbow, pulling Isak around to face him. “What was that?” he demands. They’re pressed close together, and Isak’s chest keeps brushing Even’s, he’s breathing so hard. He takes a small step back, but not before he notices Even’s face fall.

Isak clenches his hands into fists. “Weren’t you mid-hookup just now? You should go. Keep your reputation intact.”

Even furrows his brows. “I don’t care about that.”

“I’m too lazy right now to fuck. Sorry I can’t be your steady helping of dick tonight.”

Even looks at him contemplatively. “Is that what you think you are?”

“Even, you haven’t slept with anyone for longer than a night for months. And, like, I get it, I’m convenient because I’m your friend, and you’re probably worried about STDs or accidental feelings whatever, but I’m _tired._ Don’t you get that?” Isak pleads.

Finally, Even takes a step back. Isak starts to sigh in relief, but his breath catches in his throat, when he sees Even’s growing uncertainty. “Do you want to stop being friends?” he says quietly, and the vulnerability in his voice makes Isak’s chest ache.

“Of course not. I’ll always want you around.”

Even buries his face in his hands. “We never should’ve slept together.”

“Yeah,” Isak admits, and it sounds like defeat. “I’m sorry, I thought I could keep it under control.”

Even drops his hands. “What are you talking about? Your dick? Because trust me, that’s the last thing I want you to do with it.”

“What are _you_ talking about?”

Even exhales, and his entire body shudders. “I should never have have slept with you when I had feelings for you. I knew it would get messy, and look where we are.”

Isak’s brain shuts down for a second. It makes a valiant effort to start working again, but mostly, Isak’s left with his mouth agape. “You have feelings for me?”

Even’s shoulders tense. It doesn’t do much to dim the happiness that’s slowly building up inside Isak, threatening to overwhelm him. “Why do you think I haven’t even thought about sleeping with anyone else for the past month? After I got to have you—“ He shakes his head. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“I thought you regretted sleeping with me because you didn’t want anything serious, and I’m in love with you.”

There’s a pause. “You’re in love with me?” Even sounds more surprised than he should, considering how completely unsubtle Isak’s been, considering how easy it is to fall in love with him. He’s the kind of person people would move mountains for.

But Even’s always been blind to that particular fact. It’s okay. Isak has time to make up for it.

Isak reaches out to lace his fingers through Even’s. He’s taken aback by how quickly Even’s face lights up, how simple it is for them to make each other happy, when given the chance. “I do. I really, really do,” Isak says.

Even squeezes his hand. “I just want to be clear, that night when we met, I didn’t say no because I didn’t want you. Baby, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. But I knew that if I gave in, it would end that night.”

"Then why didn't you ask me out when we were sober?"

"You never brought it up. I didn't think you were interested. And I figured it was just a fluke, which kinda sucked because I really liked you."

This _ridiculous_ boy. “You didn’t even know me back then.”

Even shrugs. “Jonas talks about you a lot. Besides, I think I fell in love with you on the first day of school.” His face shines with honesty, and Isak can imagine it—Even spying him across the quad, an anonymous face that he’d wanted to know for some strange reason. Seeing Even for the first time had been the same for Isak, like a world of possibilities opening up.  

A smile creeps across Isak’s face. “You noticed me back then?”

“You’re hard to ignore.”

Even brings his lips to Isak’s then, only to pull back just as quickly. It’s the most chaste kiss they’ve shared, the fucking _tease._ Even knows exactly what he’s doing, knows that this is driving Isak crazy.

Isak waggles his eyebrows. “You know, if you’re still into steady dick, we can go to my place.”

Even’s hands are a warm weight on Isak’s hips. “Don’t know if you’ve gotten the memo, but I’m not just into steady dick. I’m into loving, committed dick, baby.”

Isak laughs, and kisses Even’s cheek. He never thought he could get turned on by something this innocent, but his dick is definitely getting a little hard. If he’d known what open and honest communication would do to his sex life, he would’ve jumped on board way sooner.

Well, maybe not. Isak still has too many insecurities to fully unpack, but he would’ve at least _considered_ it.

“Well, you’ve got loving, committed dick right here, waiting to fuck.”

Even makes a face. “I hate that word.”

“What— _fuck?_ You’ve literally admitted to me that you never want to count the number of people you’ve fucked.”

Even trails a hand down Isak’s arm. It definitely doesn’t make him melt like he’s a teenager all over again. “But none of them were you,” he whispers.

That’s it, Isak hates him. Isak hates him so much that he’s overcome with the urge to kiss Even again. He draws it out longer this time, but it’s still not enough. He wonders if there’s a threshold for this, or if he’ll always want more. But Even closes his eyes and moans into the kiss, so he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Would you rather call it something different?” Isak says when they break apart, panting. “Getting it on, or doing the nasty, or _making love—“_

“I don’t care what we call it. I’m just glad I’m doing it with you.”

Isak sticks his tongue out at him. “That’s gross. You’re gross. We have to break up.”

“We’re not even dating.”

Isak nods, very seriously. “Okay, then I guess we can be boyfriends. Just so I can break up with you later.”

“Boyfriends?”

“If you want—“

Even kisses him for the third time that night, and fuck, if he doesn’t stop this, Isak can’t be held responsible for what he’s about to do to Even right there on the street. When Even pulls away, he says, “So are we breaking up now?”

Isak gives himself a moment to consider. “I guess I can hold off until the morning. It would be an injustice to deprive you of my boyfriend skills anyway.”

Isak doesn’t break up with Even in the morning. This time, he actually stays for breakfast, lets Even feed him pancakes and eggs with the sour cream he’d somehow found in the back of the fridge. They make out against the counter, but it turns into Isak thrusting into Even until he says _I like ‘making love’_ and then Isak starts laughing too hard to control any of his limbs. Eventually, they end up in a messy but satisfied pile on the floor, with Isak’s head on Even’s shoulder.

“I hate that we wasted so much time being idiots,” Isak says softly.

“I don’t. We’re here now, and that’s what’s important.” Even kisses the top of his head. “I told you my next project had a happy ending.”

It shouldn’t surprise Isak that Even remembers an offhand conversation they had a month ago, if he’s even halfway as gone for Isak as he is for Even, but it still makes him tingle all over.

Isak pushes at Even’s chest. “Shut up,” he says, but the sappy smile that takes over his face betrays him.

(Isak doesn’t actually break up with Even ever, but that comes as a surprise to absolutely no one.)

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated!! if you are so inclined, you can follow me on tumblr at [bechnaesun](http://bechnaesun.tumblr.com/)!


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